Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Rather than start a new blog, I figured I might as well just attempt to revive what little life is left in this one.

So. What I've been up to.

First off, I want to introduce you to the title of this post!
Meet Dora the Explorer.

After SIX MONTHS of searching/fighting/crying/frustration, I finally found a car that my dad thought was acceptable and bought. She's exceptionally lovely, and I'm having a blast, even though I will totally admit that it still feels like I'm just borrowing my mom's car or something. Especially because it's nearly identical to the Mountaineer. Regardless of this, though, we have a great time together.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

I'm stuck in the middle and I'm not really sure if either is happening to me at the moment.

I have a sort of love-hate relationship with my life right now. I do very little, and I both hate and love that I do very little. When I sit around playing video games, sometimes I think, "man, this is nice" and other times I think, "why am I wasting my time on video games?" When I don't work and sleep until one in the afternoon I wake up and sometimes think, "I love sleeping in!" but other times I think, "well there's half the day gone, now what?" I'll be up for less than eight hours of daylight, and even when I am up for those hours, I usually spend them inside, with the blinds drawn to keep the sun from warming up the place.

I'm in this weird place that I don't want to be in, but I don't want to get out of either. Life continues on around me and I just watch it. Sometimes I step in for a moment and I enjoy it, but I know it's not going to last and that spoils it. Often times it tires me out and I retreat to my sedentary lifestyle.

What am I doing? And why? And how do I get out?

If not for Chris and Quidditch, I don't think I'd ever do anything. Thank the heavens for them both.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

1. My beloved Bronco is pretty much toast. The transmission is just about to go, and when it goes, that's the end. I've already spent a lot of time crying over it. Right now I'm driving what I not-so-affectionately refer to as 'the Death Trap,' which was generously lent to me by my grandparents. It's a tiny little piece of crap truck that I don't really fit in (neither does Chris); it's loud, has the worst windshield wipers on the face of the earth, and let's not even mention the brakes that squeak so loud that people five blocks away know when I'm home. Sigh. My parents decided I should get a 'new' car, and that process has been EXTREMELY stressful and frustrating, and has been put off a lot by another lovely development in my life, which brings us to...

2. My mom has cancer. I don't remember the whole scientific-y name for it, but it's a rare subcategory of non-Hodgkins lymphoma that is (thank the Lord) extremely treatable, dare we say "curable." She has a pretty big tumor in her chest that has the consistency of cotton candy and it's growing pretty rapidly, so the doctors think that chemo will be very effective. (That's something I learned - chemo affects the fastest-growing cells in the body, which is why you lose your hair.) I'm hoping so, because she's suffering a lot. The tumor has paralyzed one of her vocal chords which has made it so her throat can't close, which means she coughs a lot because of the mucous running down her trachea. It's awful. She also has to sleep with oxygen because her left lung is at about 50% capacity and she's short of breath a lot. She also can't really eat much because of the vocal chord thing (plus the tumor is pushing on her throat too) so she's always hungry. Plus she itches, all the time, which is just kind of like adding insult to injury. It's really frustrating for me because it's not something I can go beat up for messing with my mom. But she's the strongest woman I know and she'll beat this thing right outta the ballpark.

3. Not that it was going to happen anytime soon, but now this means that for sure there will be no wedding in 2012. My mom said we can't get married until she has hair, which I'm completely okay with. My mother's streak of vanity runs in me as well, and I know that she would hate being bald in her baby girl's wedding pictures - and I wouldn't exactly be the biggest fan of it either. Short hair, I can handle. It can be like, "Oh, look at how great my mom looks after kicking cancer's ass!" rather than, "Well here's my mom in the middle of chemo, something we don't really like remembering." Okay, okay, so I'm sure that by reading that you're assuming that things are going really well with Chris, and you are 100% right. He is so fantastic and wonderful and I just... mmm! I love him! We spent the weekend with my family at the cabin and it was super fun. He even won major points with my mom when he took care of my little nephew Jason (and even got him to stop crying/put him back to sleep- IT'S THE WARM HANDS). I'll admit it, watching him fawn over a baby was super adorable. Babies really aren't my thing, so it's good to know that he likes them enough to handle them when I go completely crazy and can't stand them anymore. In, you know, like, ten years. (When I off-handedly mentioned that, my mom said, "Really, you think it'll be that long?" Yes, mother, I don't want children in med school. And besides, that means you'll get a bigger time span with babies to squeeze!)

4. I think I decided to go back to school for sure. I don't know. There's just... ugh. I just. I hate college. But part of me knows I should just suck it up and do it.

5. I still need a vacation, even though I haven't really done much in the past... three months... Sigh.

I'm so stressed out that my period is late again, which is stressing me out even more. (Not that I have any reason to stress over that, I just don't like it when my body isn't doing what it's supposed to. Which is actually does a lot...)

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

You know those times when there's a truth that you're fully aware of, and acknowledge publicly... and then someone else acknowledges it publicly and it's like they punched you in the stomach?

... yeah.

I'm aware I'm not that great at Quidditch. Really. I'm aware. It's not a big deal.

But you don't have to shove it in my face. Really. You don't.

I know I shouldn't let other people's opinions/thoughts/feelings/words/actions get in the way of me enjoying my life. But, unfortunately for me, I tend to get offended a little more easily than I'd like. I take things personally. Little things, even offhand comments, get under my skin and eat away at me for days.

It. Drives. Me. In. Sane. (Yes, I know that's only one word.)

I have the potential to be an awesome Quidditch player. I have the bone structure to be hella fast. I have a super accurate arm, and I can throw DAMN hard when I'm "on."

But you know what?

I'M LAZY.

It's so bad. It drives me crazy. It drove my coaches crazy, in high school and in what I call 'pre-college.'

I know that fulfilling my potential is going to be hard. And, unfortunately for me, I don't like doing hard things. I don't like working out. I hate working out. Gross.

You wanna know how much Chris works out?

Never.

I'm jealous.

Now, granted, I do have a couple of things that he doesn't. I'm faster than he is. (No, really, I am. Even in Toms.) I could probably juke the kid straight out of his shoes if I tried.

BUT FOR SOME REASON,
there's this mental block.

I can't take a hit.

If my ankle starts to roll, I immediately scale it back.

I can never seem to give it 100%.

Now this... this is not because I'm lazy.

Many times Chris and I have talked about how my inability to 'play with reckless abandon' boils down to injury. He has never suffered a major injury. He ended his collegiate athletic career by choice. Mine was ended for me, when my hamstring nearly snapped in half.

You didn't know that, did you?

July 17, 2008. Probably the worst day of my entire life.

It was the last day of BYU track camp. I had been working pretty closely all week with 'Coach Z' and the head coach, Mark Robison, on my possible future high jumping for BYU T&F. We were having a mock meet that day, and it was my goal to jump 5'2". If I could get this, then over the next 10 months I'd work with my own track coach and the coaches at BYU to try and get second at the State meet in May, (there was this girl named Lauren who set the state record for high jumping... at the Region meet my junior year - her freshman year - she jumped 5'10". To think I could beat her was laughable. I mean, one of the main points of a goal is that is be reasonable, right?) and then I'd get "officially" offered a spot on the team.

I'd been jumping like a champ all week, especially considering how I hadn't worked out a lick since State. I was so stoked to show my stuff.

I opted to start at 4'6". It was the highest I'd ever started at, but I was feeling pretty confident.

My first attempt... something went wrong. My leg did not work the way it was supposed to, and I didn't even clear the bar. I lay on the mat for a second, pissed. I had NEVER not cleared my starting height on the first attempt. Then I realized that my leg sort of... twinged... kind of painfully. My heart sank into my stomach. 'Crap,' I thought. 'I know that feeling.' But I hopped off the mat and walked as normally as I could back to where the other jumpers were.

My second attempt was even worse, and as I lay on the mat that time, I knew something was definitely wrong with my leg. This time I got off the mat more quickly, because I was super pissed now. Mostly, I think, because I could almost feel my dreams slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do.

Coach Z came up to me. She saw me grimace as I got off the mat and walked back to the other jumpers, this time with a noticeable limp. "Are you okay?" she asked. She had this fantastic Brazilian accent, and it was tinged with genuine concern. "I don't know what's wrong. I'm better than this," I said, fighting to keep my temper in check. 'Stay classy,' I kept thinking to myself. "Do you want to go to the trainer?" "No, I'm okay, let me take my last attempt, I should be fine."

I wasn't. My third attempt was the ugliest. I wish I could say that you could hear an audible snap from my poor hamstring as it gave way (mostly), but you couldn't. You could just hear my body crashing through the bar and my whimper of pain as I lay on the mat, unwilling to move both out of pain and shame. I rolled to the side, sat up, and slid to the ground to discover that my left leg refused to hold my weight. I closed my eyes as they welled up with tears, partly out of pain but mostly out of disappointment. My college track career was over before it had even started.

I literally hopped to the trainer's cart and said quietly, "Um, something's wrong with my leg." The trainer asked questions and with gentle hands examined my leg. "Well," she finally said, "it looks like you've torn or at the very least badly pulled your hamstring." I closed my eyes as fresh tears came. 'Be strong, Jen. Be classy,' I willed myself. "I can wrap it for you to keep it mostly immobile, but you'll need to go see a specialist as soon as you can so they can do some more diagnostics." I nodded, eyes still closed, biting my lip, and she quickly wrapped my leg. When she finished she said, "sit here for a minute, I need to go grab you some paperwork." I did as asked without a word, and sat, sipping on some water, and trying (at that point, mostly successfully) to stem the flow of tears. Then I heard that voice I knew so well. "Well, what is wrong with you?" Coach Z asked. My face contorted into an ugly frown as I tried not to cry again. "My hamstring," I choked, "is torn." Coach Z's face was unchanged. "Well that's okay, you will get better, and you will come jump for me!" "But it's my jumping leg..." "So? It will heal!" I looked up at her, admiring her for her optimism, but I could see in her eyes that she knew what I knew - it was over.

Then Coach Robison came over. He put his hand on my shoulder, which he had done a lot. I adored Coach Robison. My eyes welled up again. "So, what's up?" he asked. "It's over," I said, trying not to blubber like an idiot. "My hamstring is torn." He frowned. "Ah, Jen, I'm so sorry. It's not over though. You can recover, and we'll still be happy to have you. If it takes longer to rehab, you're welcome to walk on. "

'You're welcome to walk on.' I knew he said those words to comfort me, but to me it just felt like death.

And, in a way, it was. State track the following year was a joke. After ten months of rehab, several months of the hardest work I've ever done, and the worst track season I've ever encountered, I didn't even qualify for the meet. I came as close as I possibly could have. I took fifth at Region, the top four automatically went to State. I jumped 4'10", the qualifying height was 5'. My team was thrilled that my fifth-place finish bumped our team to second place at Region; to me, it just felt like my life was mocking me.

Since then, I have to say I pretty much just quit. What was the point in working my butt off for my dreams if my hamstring was just going to tear at a crucial moment? They say 'no pain, no gain,' but I had plenty of pain, and jack squat to show for it.

So now, there's Quidditch. I love it, almost more than I loved track. It's exhilarating, fun, exciting, and probably one of the best things to happen in my life.

But I can't "leave it all on the pitch." I can't sink into that low position and run into that 200 pound guy running towards me with the Quaffle. What if I break a collarbone? What if I twist an ankle? What if I get knocked out when I get slammed to the ground? I am so utterly terrified of a repeat of what I called "The Great Hamstring Disaster" that I can't bring myself to be reckless.

I often think that if I were at my physical 'peak,' I would be a lot less afraid of getting hurt. I'm not alone in thinking this. But I don't know if I can get there.

Sometimes, I wish I could just take my brain, and shut it off. Well, the thinking part. The doing part, the reacting part, the 'catch the Quaffle when it's three inches from your face without even looking at it' part... those parts can stay.

For now, I just have to keep on keepin' on... and pretend like I don't care that I'm not the best girl chaser in the West.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

No, but seriously, I sleep all day. All the time. It's bad. My body misses the sun. My joints are starting to ache from constant disuse.

And let's not even talk about how well I'm eating.

I know I should do better. I mean, I bought a bike. The weather is beautiful. I could literally go lay out in the sun and start getting my tan back. (Ooooh. That thought might have just... Wow. I'm so shallow.) I have two Quidditch tournaments coming up in the next month, both of which I would like to NOT be a complete disappointment in. But now that I'm on the subject of Quidditch tournaments, I obviously can't talk about anything else.

Quidditch tournament #1 - The Spring Champions Series.
"This April 28th, the Boston Cannons, one of the top Major League Lacrosse teams, will be co-hosting a quidditch tournament with Emerson College Quidditch, Boston University Quidditch, and the IQA, at the Harvard sports complex as part of the Cannons’ season opener against Rochester.

The tournament will take the top 10 available teams from around the country and put them in one of the highest levels of competition outside of the World Cup.

The schedule will incorporate round robin play followed by bracket play and ending in a final battle between the top two teams. Round robin will run from 9 a.m. – 1:30 p.m at an external location ; athletes will then be transported to an Astroturf soccer stadium for single-elimination bracket play and championships from 3 PM – 6 PM.

Finally, the night will be capped off by admission to the Lacrosse game in Harvard’s famous football stadium along with 10,000 other Cannons fans." (Das what the IQA had to say about it.)

Not only are we going to Boston, my favorite city in the entire US, we're also going to NEW YORK CITY. Yes, that's right, The City That Never Sleeps. There is pretty much one reason for this, and that is that plane tickets to NYC + bus tickets to Boston < plane tickets to Boston. By like a hundred bucks. Yeah, I'm serious. So we're going to New York, staying with Queensland (yeah, I'm back to nicknames, they're fun, okay!) for two nights, then going to BOSTON, playing Quidditch for a whole day, watching my first-ever lacrosse game (I should probably get around to learning the rules...) and then heading back to NY for a few hours before we fly home, at which point Chris and Redwood's finals week will start, and my (hopefully) first week of 4 10s will begin. (Because I'm working at Outdoors Unlimited all summer, I'd reeeeeally like to just work all day MTWTh and have three-day weekends ALL THE TIME. If this doesn't work out, I'm probably going to get a second job somewhere in Salt Lake.)

BUT we are also going to Boston to play Quidditch against some of the greatest teams in the entire country.

Yikes.

Now, I'm not even trying to be self-deprecating here. I'm pretty aware that my skills at Quidditch leave a lot to be desired. I don't last very long, even at sea level. A minute into the game and I'm already like, "Fudge monkey, I need to stop running, I'm bushed." So, obviously, number one skill to improve - stamina. Poop. If you know me, you know that I'm like a dwarf. I'm a natural sprinter, very dangerous over short distances. But long distances? Ugh. Even a mile is long to me. Y-UCK. That's part of why I got a bike though. For me, biking isn't as terrible as running. It doesn't hurt my (admittedly bad) knees, it's more fun, and you can go a LOT farther on a lot less 'gas.' Plus, I dunno, going farther makes biking more of a destination thing, and I'm not gonna lie to you, joy in the journey does not apply to working out. Unless I'm climbing... or skiing... but that's not working out!

Another thing, which has plagued me forevvvvvvver, is that I am a terrible catch. I can throw surprisingly accurately, and hard, but when that ball's coming my way... bad, bad things happen. That's why I'm always QB in Jewell family beach football. But I'm serious. I'm ALWAYS QB. In the words of Sheggings, "That's how we win." (Except, when I do that, we actually do win... ouuuuuccchhhh.) Anyway. That's number two skill to improve. Okay that's actually probably number one skill to improve. If I can't catch, it doesn't matter how long I do or don't last.

Yet another thing, which... ugh... I hate thinking about. I am absolutely terrified of getting hurt. It goes back to the whole "an injury ruined my collegiate track career" thing. Chris, who's never experienced this feeling, doesn't get it. It also is largely related to the fact that, despite my love of sleeping, I am a pretty active person. I ski. I climb. I bike. I kayak. I backpack. I swim. If I got broken in any way, I would probably have to give up most of those things, albeit temporarily. It would still be really awful for me. Those things keep me going. Without them, I would be lost. And very, very upset with Quidditch/the jerkface who dislocated my shoulder/knee/hip/eyeball.

Because of this terror, I'm a little... shall we say... hesitant to initiate physical contact. I'm quick on my feet. I can backpedal faster than any girl I've ever met. And don't try to shake me. I can change directions FAST. But push me around, especially if you're bigger than me? I usually am pretty easy to flick out of the way, unless I'm bigger than you. Which, in the case of my manned coverage against ASU, was all the time. I was sincerely disappointed in their female chaser lineup. None of them pushed me around, although Palin certainly tried. Ha. (Funny story, Palin is going to Spring Champions as well... she's my competition for starting girl chaser. I have an unfortunately nagging suspicion that since she's a 'captain' she'll get it regardless of how much better I may be than her by the time the tournament rolls around. Not that that will happen, but, ya know, stranger things HAVE happened.)

So my weakness is big guys. I try to push them around, but I end up looking stupid. And usually failing. I hate it. I hate how much confidence I lack. At the Snow Cup, the few good hits I laid on chasers were like, the best feeling in the world. I played that last match with reckless abandon, and I ROCKED IT. All I have to do is find that reckless abandon again, and I'm golden!

...if only it were that easy.

My last problem, that I can think of right now anyways, is my inability to pick to quaffle up off the ground with one hand. Seriously, every time the quaffle is on the ground, I have to like... squeeze my broom tightly between my legs and grab it with both hands. I can do that fast, and I'm scrappy when it comes down to it, but... yeah...

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Okay. So. Chris works nights. Which means that if I want to get to talk to him, I have to stay up really late. This has generally evolved into me being almost nocturnal along with him, which is why I'm writing a blog post at four am. Even when he doesn't work, it's easier to stay in the general rhythm of being up all night and sleeping all day. Which means a lot of nights lately have been spent with us talking until like... five am. Whoops. (Hurray for having a basement so I don't wake up my roommates!)
Last time we saw each other, we told each other our respective first kiss stories. When I demonstrated mine (it makes the whole story SO much more accurately awkward) he laughed. It made me laugh. It was interesting to me how I used to think it was the most awkward thing on the planet, and how I was so embarrassed to tell anybody about it, but now I realize it is pretty ridiculous and funny. We talked a lot about high school, and how we don't want [my children or his children or, at this rate, TBH, our children] to be as dumb as we were. We talked about how we want our kids to really realize that there IS life after high school, but at the same time we don't want them having what I call "college tunnel vision." I honestly think that's what ruined my senior year. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to get the heck out of high school, and Logan in general, and I forgot to enjoy it. And, of course, we talked about how we don't want our children to pair off in high school. But the fact of the matter is, they're going to do it anyway. And I'll be there when they get dumped, not with an "I told you so!" or a "NOW don't you wish you'd listened to me?!" but rather with a "this really sucks, I'm sorry you have to go through this."
Anyway. I'm chatting with Chris on Facebook and totally just lost my train of thought, which is a bummer, because I had some good things to share with you folks.

Oh! Yeah! So I'm a Crimson Flier now. I'm pretty much the official Fliers graphic designer. Because I'm just that awesome. But Chris and I are going to play for the Lost Boys at the Cinco de Mayo Cup and I'm waaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy excited! :)
I'll just leave you with my latest creation. When I say Crimson, you say Fliers!

Thursday, March 15, 2012

So I was going to write this way long post, but I decided that if you guys want a novel, you'll ask for one.

I sum up.

1. Chris and I are RIDIC cute. Seriously. One person whose opinion I value claimed we're cuter than the couple that is renowned to be the cutest couple in Quidditch. Yeah. Suck it.

2. My team was incredible to me, even though they totally blew me away on the pitch. Seriously, I was so outclassed. But it was an honor to play with them. They all were really nice to me and took really great care of me, a few in particular. (Cedar... Kelly... Ross...) And check out those awesome uniforms. SO SICK.

3. I of course can't forget to mention my newest best friend, Santiago. He plays keeper for the Lost Boys, and I dunno what it was, but we clicked like you wouldn't believe. Seriously, I have never met anyone that I connected with SO WELL SO QUICKLY. Even Chris. I wish someone had gotten a picture of us hugging, because it happened a lot, and Santi hugs are legitimately THE BEST EVER.

4. Getting to see all of my amazing Quidditch friends, some for the second time, some for the first. I love them all SO FREAKING MUCH.

6. Having the incredibly talented Monica Wheeler take some beast shots of me playing. She took all of them but the first. (She also snagged the cute one of me and Chris.)

This last one is a close up from the brooms up shot. Can I just say BAD ASS?

7. Being arguably the most awesome and supportive girlfriend on the planet. I didn't miss a single Fliers match, and I'm becoming famous for being the girl who repeatedly shouted, "THAT'S MY MAN!" when Chris scored a super sick breakaway goal. (It was so incredibly hot! Seriously.) And everyone definitely knows how I feel about my man.

8. Awesome road trip there and back. Getting lost, learning how to be a California driver, talking about everything from how I think penises are gross to college baseball... Even though we didn't get home until 6am on Tuesday morning, it was a blast. I'm a huge fan, and I'm already looking forward to our Cinco de Mayo Cup road trip! Yeah baby!!!

9. My tan lines.

10. Everything else I forgot to mention that I'm positive was just as awesome. <3

13. My roommates (well, other than my room-roommate) drive me completely insane. I might have to take a picture of their toilet before we have cleaning checks, it is seriously the most disgusting thing I have ever seen, and they've only lived here two months. Thankfully our gas bills are going down, but our last electric bill was A HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS. I've just about had it.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Okay guys, just so you don't freak out, I'm going to tell you right now that I'm not going to be blogging again for a while. Maybe ever. I guess we'll see.

Nothing is terribly wrong, don't worry. I just have some things I need to figure out/take care of without sharing them with the entire internet. And you know how I am, if I blog, it's going to be pretty much laying my life bare. For once in my life, I'm going to look inward instead of outward to solve the mysteries of life.

Just to throw you guys a bone, Chris and I went to the MuteMath concert last night for Valentine's Day. It was incredible. They were amazing. Just standing there for two hours with Chris's arms wrapped around me listening to some of my favorite songs on the planet... little piece of heaven. Wait, PDA?! What? Yes. It was so... ah. Great.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

So, I admit it, sometimes I'll go back and read Chris's blog from the beginning again. Usually it just reminds me how truly little we actually know about each other, and it always makes me feel this weird emotion that probably doesn't have a name. It's this mixture of "wow, I'm so glad he loves ME now" and "dangit, how am I ever going to compare to Liz/Hannah" and "how on earth did this happen?" and "goodness I am so in love with this boy it almost hurts."
I remember all of the feelings I felt when I was first reading his blog, especially the post about himself where I was thinking, 'goodness, this boy sounds lovely.' Of course, now I know for myself just how lovely he is and as usual I will gush about how I think he is the most handsome boy I have ever seen. Seriously, speaking of things that almost hurt.

I wish there was a word for the emotion I feel when I think about him. Something all encompassing. When he talked in the very beginning about 'The Yearning' for Hannah, I thought I understood it. I've been in long distance relationships before. I know what it's like to want to see someone so badly that you leave on a two-hour drive at 11pm. I know what it's like to have to pull over before getting on the freeway to go home because the sobs wracking your body are making it impossible to drive. I thought that was yearning. I thought I knew that emotion. But I didn't. Feeling like a ghost when you're not with that person, feeling like you're only partly complete without them around... Feeling a dull ache in the center of your chest that refuses to leave until you're wrapped in that person's arms... Curling into a ball around their sweatshirt that still smells faintly of them and wishing desperately that you could sink so deeply into it that it magically transferred you into their presence... Feeling at the same time like you can't possibly deserve them but at the same time feeling completely inable to imagine how on earth you could function without them... THAT is yearning. And the positive side of that, to me, is true love.

I don't even care that you don't want me to elaborate on that, I'm going to anyway. True love is driving two hours to spend 15 minutes in their presence. True love is spending literally hours without leaving their arms, and still feeling like it can never be enough. True love is finally believing them when they tell you they love you. True love is feeling like your heart is ten steps ahead of you when you're running to see them again after less than 24 hours apart. True love is that inability to wipe that stupid smile off your face when you're around them. True love is recognizing that they have flaws, but still thinking they're completely perfect. True love is knowing that no matter what you decide, they'll be behind you 100%. True love is knowing that no matter what THEY decide, YOU'LL be behind THEM 100%. True love is realizing that even though you fight, it's because you're a volatile person, and it doesn't mean the relationship is flawed. True love is being grateful for EVERYTHING that has happened to you, because if even one thing had been different, you probably would've never met the person you love.

Right now all I can say is that if I have to put up with the yearning to have the true love, I'll take it. A hundred times over.

Monday, February 6, 2012

So today my mom asked me how the Snow Cup went, and I told her it was legitimately the best weekend of my life. Why? Okay, I'll tell you.

1. Finally getting to meet some of the greatest people I have EVER known in my entire life. Seriously, the morning of, running up to everyone and hugging them? BEST. THING. EVER. (Zach wins though, seriously. I said his name and we legitimately ran and jumped into each others' arms and stayed there for at least a full minute. I love him SO MUCH.)

11. Being so sore that moving was a long and arduous process for the next two days, and being completely happy about it.

12. Spending a good chunk of time and money on those legit brooms, and hearing people talk about how awesome they were.

14. Wearing my muddy jersey to school on Monday and getting the weirdest looks ever.

15. Reading the article about us in our school paper. We're so cool.

16. Having Zach tell me I'm actually good at Quidditch. And believing him.

17. Lillian.

18. TRADING CARDS.

19. Yelling myself completely hoarse being that obnoxiously passionate captain on the sidelines.

20. QUIDDITCH. QUIDDITCH. QUIDDITCH.

(This worked better on Facebook when I could tag everyone I love SO DEARLY.)

Anyway, to sum up the Snow Cup, we won our first game, and our last game, both against UNC (they went 0-5, poor guys). The Crimson Fliers won the whole thing, with good reason. They are incredible. If you want to watch some good Quidditch, watch the Fliers. They play a very beautiful Quidditch match. Watching Chris play Quidditch turns me on more than looking at pictures of him play baseball. GOSSSSSHHH he is so hot.

But yeah. My team actually did incredibly well. I'm so proud of them/us, and so many people told me how impressed they were by us, both on and off the field. That is always so nice to hear, especially as a captain.

One more little gooey-ness before I head to bed. This weekend just showed me even more clearly why I love Chris SO MUCH. Yeah, yeah, he's good at Quidditch and he's extremely good looking and such, but he's also way smart, super dedicated, and so, so classy. He would ceaselessly give credit to his team, and most of his hard work (especially on the brooms) went completely unnoticed and he didn't even care. I would say that I'm sorry ladies, because I am a little sorry that you are all missing out, but seriously I'm not all that sorry, he is so wonderful and I feel so lucky. I am still a little mystified as to why on earth he's dating me... But I guess I DO look pretty hot in my Quidditch uniform... ;)

And one last thing... Chris texted me "Wanngoballwime?" 25 minutes before the dance started... OBVIOUSLY I said yes. Silly, silly, adorable boy. (He looked so freaking handsome. It was not fair.)

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Welp. Just found out that I can't go on the RMYL Study Abroad this summer because I'm on academic probation. Sigh. Guess that just means I'll have to wait...

I guess there are pros and cons to this. One pro is that I can do my EMT certification with my still-valid CPR certification. Another pro is that I can make more money (and spend less of if too!). Another pro is that I can play with my cute boyfriend more. Another pro is that we could actually take that trip to DC/Virginia! Lots of pros.

The primary con is this. This might be my last summer as a young single adult. That is all I'm going to say.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Okay y'all, I realize that I have been failing dismally at my New Year's resolution to blog every day. Whups. But hey, in my defense, I have been spending 99% of my time at work, school, or with Chris. So. Yeah. Oh wait, gotta put IQA West in there. LOL.

So, a few blog-worthy things have happened, which each honestly deserve their own post, but, whatever. Here we go.

1. My beloved car is broken. STILL. I took it to the shop a week ago to get the 4WD looked at, and there were a bunch of things wrong. Crack in the radiator, some plug had fallen out and coolant was leaking into my engine, yada yada yada. So, got that all fixed (for almost 2500 bucks, my dad was a little less than thrilled) and picked it up last night at about 5 ish. Thrilled to death to have my baby back. Driving to work (with three of my coworkers), just as we are about to drive into the canyon, something happens, there is a huge grinding/cranking sound, and something definitely goes wrong. Engine smoking and everything. Wahoo. So I call Steve's (bless his heart, the man is a freaking SAINT) and he sends out a tow, we call Sundance and one of the yurt people comes and gets us. I wait on the diagnosis all day, and finally get the call as I am about to get off the lift for my last run of the day. And what do I hear? My front differential is shattered. SHATTERED. You might as well have told me that one of my best friends got in a bad car accident for the effect it had on me. My dad will definitely not be thrilled about this, even though it's totally not my fault. These things do happen. It's repairable (thank Talos) but it will be expensive. Sigh. I'm just praying that my dad continues to be merciful. If I have to, I will bust out some of my new student loan money and pay it, but I'd really rather not do that. Anyway, I also called Chris practically in tears (at what was essentially one in the morning for him, speaking of saints) and he ended up coming down to pick me up after work. Anyone could've taken me home, but Chris knows how much I love that car and knew that I wanted comfort. So he did it. Seriously, how on earth did I get so freaking lucky? I will never figure it out. Anyway. Yeah. Hopefully that all will get taken care of by the end of the week. I'll keep you posted.

2. As I briefly mentioned above, I accepted my student loan. My mother cautioned me to think long and hard about this, well, honestly, she told me not to do it. But guess what? I am a big girl, and I am not making enough money to pay tuition by March. Plain and simple. Plus, with New Zealand on the horizon, I am willing to take out a loan that I can certainly repay soon enough that interest won't make a big deal. I'm not stressed about it. I will make more money on patrol, plus working as an EMT in LA (or... wherever... but we're hoping LA...) will probably make me bank. We'll see.

3. Ohhhhh this is the good one. The one that definitely deserves its own blog post. But I'm keeping it on here. So on Friday, no, Saturday, I get this text from this 801 number I don't know that was like, "Hey Jen, how's it goin?" and then when I said good and asked who it was, he said, "It's Matt. So are ya still single?" Bahahahahahaha. (What he actually said was funnier, this is why I need a smartphone.) Anyway, I asked Matt who, and he said, "Strong," and then proceeded to act all offended that I didn't remember him. LOLz. Eventually, I managed to drag out of him where I had met him (and I mean drag, so mature...) and I honestly have NO CLUE WHO THIS KID IS. Whatever. He said he remembered my long legs and dark hair... so definitely me. :/ Whoops. I can only imagine that I gave him my number because we had a class together and I thought he was cute, but he never used it. Until now. When he just broke up with his girlfriend and "was looking through my phone and saw your number and thought I'd see how you're doing." WOW, CAN YOU SAY BOOTY CALL?! Kill me. Chris and I had a great laugh about it. Especially when Matt pulled out the "old flame" line... Bahahahaha, old flame, right. I can't even picture your face, we are not old flames. Roll my eyes. I kinda wanna hang out with him though, to see if seeing his face would jog my memory. Don't suggest Facebook stalking, totally already tried that. Haha. So entertaining.

4. Quidditch drama. Rolls eyes again. I don't even want to tell the whole story. But some people are silly.

5. SO EXCITED FOR SNOW CUP. And the Snow Ball with ma hot boyfrennnnn.

Last but not least...
6. IT FINALLY FREAKING SNOWED. A LOT. I SO HAPPY. <3

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Um, so, Chris decided to delete his blog. It's okay. It has served its primary purpose. One thing I will say, that is probably why I like it so much, is that the blog is tangible. When I'm all alone and Chris is at work and I miss him like crazy, I can pull up a favorite blog post, read it, and feel all warm and fuzzy inside again. Words are super effective like that for me.

Anyway. Today at work was boring, as usual. I spent probably an hour on this poor unloved snowboard (seriously, its edges were essentially pure rust) and it still didn't look as good as it deserves, but it's about as good as it's gonna get.

I know I need to chill. I do realize this. Thankfully, I have SupaKev to put things back into perspective. And, ya know, Tripp. (Tripp, today was one of those times when I wished that we communicated over more than just the occasional blog posts. You seem to understand Chris better than I do.)

Brief overview, there are five languages of love. Each person speaks one more 'fluently' than another, so to speak. (Oh punny.) We all speak them all. They are Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, and Gift Giving. We each 'speak' and 'receive' a specific language- usually they are the same, but sometimes they're not.

As Tripp pointed out, Chris is one of those Quality Time people. I am one of those Words of Affirmation people. Well, okay, I might actually be a Physical Touch person, but that particular love language has been spoken enough that I'm moving on to my 'secondary' language. Either way, words are huge for me. I frequently tell my friends and the people I care about that I love them, and I like to hear it. A lot. To be honest, one of the underlying causes of my self esteem issues is the fact that my parents are not 'words' people. My parents express their love for me by acts of service, and gift giving. To me they're telling me over and over in, say, Finnish, that they love me, but I don't speak Finnish all that well. I speak Gaelic (words of affirmation) really well though, and a lot of the times my parents 'spoke Gaelic' to me, it was degrading. Now, imagine how that makes me feel. In their minds they are telling me VERY LOUDLY how much they love me, and occasionally very quietly the things they don't love. But because I really only understand the language in which they're telling me they don't love me, that's all I'm getting. Yeah. Not good. (This is actually one of the reasons I think I'm primarily physical touch. My parents are the least touchy people in the universe. Or close to it. And I don't legitimately feel like they love me. I know they do. But I don't feel it.)

Anyway, to me, Chris is pretty much shouting at me in oh, Swahili, that he loves me. I speak Swahili, in fact that's probably how I express myself the most (particularly in this relationship- "I miss you like crazy, I'll be there in 45 minutes" at 10 pm much?) but it's not my native language, so it feels a little foreign to me. Remember, I speak Gaelic. Don't get me wrong, it's not like he doesn't tell me he loves me. (He does, a lot. I like it, a lot.) But when he speaks negatively... that's a lot more detrimental for me. For example, "Do whatever you want." To Chris, this means, "I'm trying to be a hands-off boyfriend and let you make your own decisions." But to me, the native Gaelic speaker, it essentially says, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Can you understand how a bit of negativity can be extremely detrimental to me? And how guys, who generally don't speak Gaelic, tend to cut and run?

Me, the one who spends all of my time gushing about Chris all over my blog (in Gaelic), the one who fell in love with a boy after reading his blog (let's be honest, I really did), the one who writes letters (and, unfortunately, blog posts) when she's upset because that's how she expresses herself best... reads the blog, sees a few shall we say "Honorable Mentions (in Gaelic)" and then an entire paragraph about arguing... You might as well have slapped me in the face.

I know, I need to chill.

As SupaKev pointed out, for someone who doesn't speak Gaelic as his native language, Chris does a pretty good amount of 'gushing.' It's just hidden, because it's not in my dialect of Gaelic. (Yeah, I went there! You have to remember that freshman year I was a linguistics major.)

Anyway, I'll wrap this up with a moment of direct-to-Chris. I'm sorry. I get frustrated. Words are a big deal. I stress about them. I tell you I love you all the time because I just can't express it enough. Just... maybe try to speak a teeny bit more Gaelic on the blog? Just a teeny bit? Also... please try to remember what "Do whatever you want" means to me.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

I have a temper. And an ego. And these two, mixed, are generally not a good combination. Particularly when one is in a relationship with someone who starts arguments when he's in a bad mood.

This temper + ego has often led me to be thought of as extremely argumentative. I am right, dammit, and I am not giving up until you realize this fact! (*cough* brachiosaurus *cough* Hound of the Baskervilles *cough*) Fortunately for me, I am often right. No, I'm serious, I'm usually right. I tend to be less argumentative when opinions are involved, but when there are facts? Unless you can prove to me that I am wrong, I am right.

Unfortunately for me, however, my argumentative tendencies cause members of the male gender to throw in the towel once they've "seen the real me." Okay, I'll admit it, I usually try to rein myself in at the beginning of a relationship, but once we start getting more comfortable around each other and start letting our guards down, arguments tend to crop up. And again, I'll admit, I usually start them. When things bother me, I let people know. People who sweep their problems under the rug or hide them until they explode have never seemed wise to me. To each his own, I suppose, but being the blunt, open, and forward person that I am, up-front honesty has been my primary course of action. "What you just did/are doing bothers me. Do you enjoy bothering me? What is your explanation for bothering me?"

Unfortunately again, when you pair someone with low self esteem (me) with someone who generally does not broadcast his feelings all over the place (Chris), you usually end up with SWLSE feeling like SWGDNBHFAOTP doesn't love her because he doesn't say it/show it/express it very often, particularly in public places. Especially when SWLSE is not afraid of verbal pda. Okay, those acronyms are getting confusing, so I'll just say me. And Chris. Anyway, long story short, I usually end up feeling unloved, and expressing this feeling with frustration.

Generally, however, I would not refer to these (or the few situations in which I have been right and Chris has been wrong and I have been adamant and he has been put in his place) as arguments. I would say we have perhaps had two legitimate arguments, one of which was pretty much completely one-sided (yep, me) and both of which have ended with Chris getting all quiet and me being irritated beyond what I can describe, because once I start to argue, I want to argue, dang it, so argue back, dangit. This quietness, combined with the occasional, "I just don't want to fight, okay?" generally make me feel like the Wicked Witch of the West, which definitely does not help. (Especially because, throughout my life, 9 times out of ten I have been the grovel-er, and would maybe like to be the grovel-ee once in a while...)

Apparently though, Chris thinks that we have, and I quote, "entered into a few arguments/fights recently, some over dumb things and some over important things." Um... I'm not sure what exactly the important arguments were, and I would not say 'a few.' 'A few' is more than three. So, um... care to enlighten me, dear?

Although his claim that "entering into an argument marks that moment where I feel truly secure in a relationship of any kind" is likely meant to reassure me, it just makes me grit my teeth, for a few reasons. One being that I don't particularly feel like arguments are a part of a relationship that need to be shared with the general public (yeah, I realize I'm doing it right now, but he started it-so mature of me, I know) and two being that I certainly don't feel reassured if he thinks we've had "a few" arguments. We'll probably even end up arguing about this entire blog thing. Yay.

I think what bothers me the most is that he can't be bothered to post positive things (besides saying that we've been spending a lot of time together) about me, but posting negative things is apparently perfectly acceptable. That REALLY makes me feel loved.

Sigh. I know I should just chill out sometimes. But is it really too much to ask that I NOT be the only one in the relationship who likes to gush about my significant other? Or even, you know, act like I like my significant other?

Monday, January 16, 2012

Okay, I am utterly freezing. We got done with Quidditch practice a little over an hour ago (Quidditch practice, yeah right, we did not practice) and I am still shivering violently. Ugh. To top things off, I'm pretty sure I have swimmer's ear, and my right ear is killing me. Oh my life.

So, I realize that this is my first post in 11 days. I am starting to take a post out of WoaSM's blog... Just kidding. I have just been absurdly busy with school, work, and Chris; and there really isn't anything going on in my life worth talking about. I'm always tired, I'm almost always cold, and I always have a giant heap of things to do that just aren't getting done.

Oh, and those nights when I'm not working and Chris is (and thus, we aren't spending time together)? I'm usually video chatting with my friends from IQA West. Yeah, that's how we Quidditch players roll.

On the subject of Quidditch, we finalized our Snow Cup roster and we have SIXTEEN people coming! Yeah! Needless to say, I am stoked. Although I am a) nervous because it will be cold and I'm a baby about the cold, and b) nervous about Keeping against Chris, and c) scared that I will suck at Quidditch and my whole team will think I'm a fool.

Anyway, I'm technically supposed to be working... but I'm freezing and my ear really hurts (I'm pretty sure I have swimmer's ear). So, I think I'm going to go try and get warm. Slash, not be a slacker.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Okay, so, sometimes when a few of us at Sundance don't get lessons, we go and do skiing clinics. And today we clinicked (I don't know if that's a word, but it is now) with Owen, and I have to tell you right now, he is officially my new favorite person to clinic with. He makes you (well, me) feel like a CHAMP. Seriously. Today he said to me, "I love watching you ski. You are such a powerful skier. It is beautiful." My jaw seriously dropped into my lap as I was grinning and blubbering thanks. But seriously, for someone as good as he is to tell me that HE loves watching ME ski?! That blows my mind/makes me feel like a million bucks. I can honestly say I have never received a better compliment in my entire life.

But, during the clinic, there was this moment of "OH! THAT'S what that's supposed to feel like!" It was so awesome. I felt my skiing improve in just a matter of hours. Seriously. It was so freaking cool.

Anyway, that's pretty much all I have to say. But. Work is good. Even when I'm not getting paid.

I'm trying to get Chris to come skiing with me this weekend, so that if he ever ends up coming and taking a lesson from me, I'll have an idea of what to work on. We'll see. :)

2012 Resolutions
1. Play lots, and lots, and LOTS of Quidditch.
2. Get a B average Winter semester.
3. EMT certify.
4. Study Abroad Summer term - NZ, Australia, and Fiji.
5. Travel.
6. Be an awesome girlfriend, and keep Chris around. (Moment of cheese/ridiculousness: keep Chris around long enough that he'll ask me to marry him... IT'S A POSSIBILITY, OKAY?)
7. Live in the now.

And, 8. TRY to keep blogging every day. Although, you may have noticed, since I started dating Chris, the blog posts have gotten fewer and farther between.

New Year's? Ummmmm yeah, Chris and I were watching football/Firefly/things to keep us awake... and totally ended up falling asleep and sleeping through the whole New Year thing. Whoops...

My 'REAL' present from Chris came, and it is SO FREAKING COOL. It's a leather-bound copy of The Hobbit with ORIGINAL TOLKIEN ILLUSTRATIONS. Um, yeah, does not get any cooler than that. I'm so excited. It is so great to me that Chris and I both have the same dream to have a library filled with really fantastic books, most particularly leather-bound, quality stuff. Although honestly my greatest dream is to have first-edition copies of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, that will probably never happen, so I am perfectly content with this copy. It's so cool. I don't think I acted as excited as I should have, but it wasn't exactly what I was expecting. What's funny is that when I was trying to figure it out, and I knew he'd gone to the Gateway, the first store I asked about was Barnes & Noble (he lied and said he didn't go there). Yeah, we're the same person.

I'm fairly certain that I haven't gone for more than 24 hours without seeing Chris this whole break, but when school starts that's going to change, and I'm not going to lie, it's going to be incredibly hard. I do NOT like spending time away from him. Call me cheesy or whatever, but I honestly want to be with him all the time. Yeah, remember that stuff I said about liking my me time? Buncha bull. Give me Chris, 24/7 please.

Anyway, I should probably get ready for bed, since I have work in the morning. Sigh.